Once Upon a Time
by Peaceful Sunrise
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived and fought and loved. Every person has a story, and this is his. AU, personal canon. For the OHC on Tumblr.


**For the OHC on Tumblr. **

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Note: Please read the next "chapter" for explanation of my canon. This is clearly an AU, and ignores much of Rowling's canon.**

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Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived with his family. He had a mother and a father who loved him very much and a sister whom he loved very much. The four of them all lived in this little house, and were very happy together. For six years, the boy grew up, happy and carefree. He had big plans for the future. He was going to be grow up and be an Unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic! He would learn everything there was to learn and discover new stuff and be the best wizard that ever was!

Then in one night, all those dreams shattered away.

All it had taken was a cruel word, and a promised retribution, and his fate was sealed. Early in the night, when the moon had barely risen, they came. Screams, blood, death. In less than ten minutes, they were torn apart forever. A mother and a sister dead, a father in violent grief, and a boy who feared the moon.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived in fear of his father. Grief had turned to rage and madness. In his fury, he blamed the only other survivor of that night for what had happened. For two years, the boy suffered his wrath, in constant fear of what new torture he might devise next. The day he managed to escape was one of the happiest of his life. It didn't matter that he was now on his own, with nothing and no one in the world. Anywhere was better than home.

Once upon a time, there was a magical letter sent to a magical boy. He could not believe it when he got the letter, for how could someone like him ever possibly get something like this? After all, wasn't he a freak, a monster, an abomination? People like him didn't, couldn't possibly ever go to such a place.

But something strange happened to him then. The sender personally came, and showed him something new, something he'd not encountered since that fateful night. Here, instead of scorn and hate and derision, was kindness, and compassion, and understanding. He soothed all his fears, welcomed him with open arms. And for the first time, the boy dared to dream that maybe, just maybe, he deserved something good after all.

Once upon a time, a hopeful boy stepped onto a magical platform and rode a magical train to a magical school. He was Sorted by a magical hat into the House of the brave, and that very night, in his room, he met three other boys. First impressions did not go well: they seemed to him quite brainless, and he seemed to them an antisocial know-it-all. Needless to say, the first night did not go well.

Most of the time, first impressions are wrong. In his case, he was only half wrong. Though not completely brainless, his dorm mates soon proved themselves completely reckless and thoughtless, establishing reputations as pranksters and troublemakers. In turn, he did prove to be quite antisocial and just a bit know-it-all. They were quite content to ignore each other for the first two months, until one blustery November day, when he accidentally got caught in a prank they had set up for certain despised student. His retaliation was swift, and three days later, all of them were in detention for nearly blowing up the Great Hall. After this, he was assimilated rather quickly into their little group, for as their de facto leader said, "Anyone who can successfully prank us can't be half bad."

Once upon a time, there was a boy who was no longer alone. He had friends, for the first time in his life, friends who, when they discovered his terrible secret, did not abandon or desert him, but instead helped him and stuck with him. He never could quite believe it, that there were people out there who did not immediately hate him because of what he was. It never ceased to amaze him, and it only served to bring them all closer.

Throughout and after their school years, they remained friends. They laughed together and cried together and fought together. It seemed that nothing could break them apart. Nothing, that is, except for a traitor. A whispered word in an ear here, an ear there, and they had all turned on each other. The boy's friends all suspected him of being the traitor. He in turn suspected the only one to betray him before, the one who had revealed his secret, who had almost made him a murderer. But of course, he was one person, and they were many, and he found himself growing alone again. That was alright, he told himself. He should never have trusted anyway.

Then the Dark Lord split them apart forever.

A traitor's words, a sickening green curse. A rash confrontation, an unjust incarceration. And now he was alone again, all his friends dead or a traitor. And he convinced himself that he deserved this, that he had been a fool to ever think he deserved anything good, because creatures like him deserved nothing, nothing at all, except the worst.

Once upon a time, there was a lonely man, who spent his days helping kids with nowhere to go. After all, hadn't he been once one of them? He worked job after job, leaving before his employers could find out his secret. And all those long, long years, he carried the weight of his dead friends, his dead family, bitterly cursing the day of his birth. Wouldn't it have been better if he'd never been born, never suffered this terrible life? Many times, he was almost convinced to end it, once and for all, but he could never quite bring himself to do it, and he called himself a coward.

Then, one day, many, many years later, the same man, who had, so many years ago, shown him what kindness and compassion was, once again offered him a place at his school, this time as a teacher. To his surprise, he found himself taking the job, and once again, found himself riding that old train to his old school. And on that train, in his very compartment, was the son of his friend, the picture image of his parents.

Oh, how he had longed to spring up and talk to him, but reason stayed him. The boy had no clue who he was. He was just another teacher to him. So that's what he remained, as he drove the Dementor away, as he taught in class him in class, as he spoke to the boy one Hogsmeade weekend, when all his friends were out in the village, even as he taught him how to drive away the Dementors. He did have other things to worry about: the traitor who had killed his friends had escaped, and was coming here. And he himself felt like a traitor, because he knew how the traitor was doing it, how he was entering the school, but he could never bring himself to tell anyone.

It happened to be a good thing, because as he found out, the traitor was not the traitor, but it had been someone else. The relief he felt was mingled with guilt that he had ever suspected him, and then the extreme guilt when it was him who let the real traitor escape. He resigned soon after, when his secret was let out, and left once again, this time a little freer in the knowledge that one of his friends was still alive.

Once upon a time, there was a man who fought in a war. He had fought once, and now he fought again. The man who had killed his friends was back, out to conquer the world, and only a small band of fighters stood against him. It was in this small band of fighters that he first met her, though at the time, he thought nothing of it. She was just a young woman, and he an old man. There was nothing, despite his friend's insistence, and the way she smiled, how her whole face lit up like a ray of sunshine, how she made his heart pound just a little faster…

And then his friend died.

Really, he should have expected this by now. Everyone he cared for ended up dead. All his friends were gone now. He threw himself into the fight, burying grief in duty, pushing everyone away, even her. She'd only get hurt if she got close. He was good at building up layers, letting no one in. And yet, somehow, despite his attempts, she did. She got in, and she touched his heart like no one else. She ignored his feeble excuses, pushed past his attempts at hiding. And he let her. For the first time, he let her in. And she stayed. She stayed, even when he panicked over their unborn child. She stayed, even when her family told her not to. She stayed, and she stayed there forever. And when their child, his precious son was born, he found that he had room for one more.

The anguish he felt when he saw her struck down in that final battle was beyond words.

Suddenly, it was as if his whole world was gone. She was dead. Her. The world had become that much more darker. And he was dying too. A curse had hit him, was killing him even now. But he knew, if he had to die, he would go down fighting to make the world a better place for his son, so that he would never have to grow up like he did. And he fought, to his last breath, giving it all for a better world.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived, who fought, who loved. He had led a long, hard life, that was often more sad than happy. But at the end of his life, he finally found peace, and happiness, and love. All the hardships he had gone through, everything that had happened to him, were all washed away. This is the story of a boy who finally found a home, and now it may be put to rest.

The End


End file.
